


Carmen of a Tender Autumn

by Puolukka



Series: Mid Seasons are No More [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mild Language, Omega Verse, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:16:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3711082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puolukka/pseuds/Puolukka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred F. Jones has never been so hopeless in his life and the cause of his turmoil is the infamous beta student Arthur Kirkland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I – Cyclamen

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel – which marks this as the very first concept of this universe – to _In Late Spring Sonnet_.
> 
> I think it's quite unnecessary to say, but being a non-english speaker I wouldn't mind, or better I invite you to correct me even for silly errors and most importantly for grammar or syntax mistakes. Also please if you think a sentence doesn't quite make sense tell me, okay?
> 
> Thank you.

It happens when you less expect it.

The fury of the early rainstorm, washing the last bit of summer on the ground, clashes and bites off the bitter sensation of a new year. Before, only the gnawing commotion sparkled by the anticipation of the upcoming change, then the vast reality of a forsaken isle swamped by young teenager in their most sensitive years.

That's when everything starts making sense and you understand nothing is changing, but your own requirements and aims.

Abruptly, though, it ends and you can feel all the tense, sore aching built up in the guts leaving you in a wave of relief and shameful foolishness.

And they all slide along the dull hallways to an anew life.

* * *

 

In the blink of an eye.

This is the current feeling that Alfred F. Jones, a freshman alpha, thinks that better suits the first month in the Public Istitute.

It lasts a blink of an eye and before he knows it, September has already bid his last goodbye to introduce the chilly October. Albeit the mellow weeks he has spent, Alfred still trembles; exciting jolts rush through his veins at the reminder that, yes, he is finally a high school student.

But this very thought is completely dismissed or dimmed too simple-minded for his classmates, already acquainted to this new environment and to the sensation it carries along. In other words Alfred should "try to act his age" as his friend Jonathan kindly states one day, during the class break.

They are checking the timetable in order to understand the classes arrangement and, in the meantime, arguing about the upcoming activity. Despite his well-built shape and athletic disposition, Alfred Jones has no penchant on join an afternoon sport as he employs his free time in alternative ways - which is trekking and free climbing. However, Jonathan has been trying to convince him to take part in the basketball team to ensure a seamless integration with all members of the school - and to keep him company since he would be the only one of the class.

As the discussion presses on, never reaching a fair conclusion, the two alphas are very roughly cut off and rebuked by a fellow student.

"Excuse me, you two."

When Alfred casts his eyes on the slim figure of a boy - almost the same height, but with a more outlined guise typical of an older student, he isn't aware of the ruckus erupting around him, going viral in the school premises as a motley group of people gathers and awaits with trepidation the show soon to break out.

The blond figure goes on with his speech, his emerald eyes now boring into Jonathan. "I want to make it clear by now. I'm not going to bend to your will and if you even dare treat me with indifference I won't hold back. Did you understand, lads?"

Purposefully railed up, Jonathan settles on a tight stance, showing off even more his already board chest while growling few soundless intimidation. That is, before Alfred bugs in with a very stern and nonplussed expression, betraying his true intentions for the older student immediately perceives him as a threat and backs subtly back.

A hand reaches out and the older student goes completely still as he feels his arm being bound by a strong hold. Then a mop of blond hair leans over, getting a close look of his soft features and very well concealed panic.

Then the impromptu, bold action of the blond head who very offhandedly starts sniffing the other boy like a dog checking his territory, thus triggering a well-timed punch by the very enraged – and thoroughly outraged – student.

Unfortunately the confusion and the awkward instance of the occurrence decreases considerably the fist's power and course, giving Alfred the time to dodge it before it would collide with his nose - but still scraping his cheek to get it bashfully red-stained.

"Yep, you are totally a beta." confirms with finality Alfred repositioning himself beside a dumbfounded Jonathan. He doesn't show neither fear nor bewilderment for the shot, but a misplaced mulling expression that in return astonish the older boy.

"What the fu- How dare _you_!"

The prompt intervention of Jonathan, though, with his reassuring smile and apologising declamation has the calming effect to thwart a likely - if not certain apocalypse. ("Excuse his impoliteness, he is just a bit tired – and stupid. Mostly stupid.")

The older student only huffs back, trying to contain his fury and offended ego as he hisses an irrational 'Pig-headed alphas' before walking away in the awkward afterward silence.

At that Jonathan turns to his friend, trying to understand the reason of his actions. "Alfred! What's gotten into you!? Are you going insane?"

But the only signal that shows Alfred has been listening to his scolding is the feather shifting of his face, still lacking any kind of visual recognition as his eyes are too engaged in tracing the course of the older boy, now only a grey shaded point among equally unsubstantial signs.

"Who is he?" asks Alfred, but his friend doesn't get to reply as a voice speaks up from the little crowd who has been witnessing with sparkling excitement.

"That, my friend, is the junior student most feared and known in the college aka Arthur Kirkland."

Seeing no further response from Alfred, the unknown voice goes on with an amused twist. "You're gonna see more of him around, boy. That Kirkland is always surrounded by alphas despite his bad temper."

With a thoughtful guise gracing his features and a short nod motion Alfred absorbs the information whereas Jonathan shakes him back from his cogitations.

"Arthur Kirkland, uh" whispers Alfred in earnest.

* * *

 

The misty air of October seeps through a split in the sliding window, creating a thick coat of freezing moisture in the chatting-filled classroom. Alfred Jones is sporting a warm and bicast leather jacket - old-fashioned and slightly tarnish at that - while his friend Jonathan has only the feeble comfort of a worn out shirt, which doesn't provide much relief to his cold skin.

"I might as well go around naked." prompts Jonathan after another spiraling draught claims his warm-deprived body.

Alfred hums out, a noncommittal show of his interest. Jonathan cannot help but huff in annoyance at the placid indifference of the other; after the faithful confrontation against Arthur Kirkland, his friend has been spacing off, repeatedly so.

"Would you kindly pretend to be at least moved by my unfair situation?"

"Yeah, sure."

Shift; then pause.

"Do you know where I can find him?"

It is instinctive the grumbled tantrum tumbling out Jonathan's grinding teeth. Instinctive due to the multitude of time the poor alpha has endured Alfred's inflexible questions about the beta junior.

"I don't know, Al. I have no fucking idea where your boyf-"

"In the back garden," a calming tone interrupts him. "You can find my _sweetie_ in the back garden of the school."

They both turn around in time to squint out the colossal figure of a bony alpha. "He's always there. How the heck he can enjoy that untenable task of his I don't know. Though a bit of chill won't stop him to look after those bushes out there."

The alpha's tone is tainted in what one would describe as jealousy, an inconceivable jealousy. Though he doesn't last much seeing as a smirk creeps over his features, now fully absorbing the tall figure of Alfred while waging his worth.

"So, you must be the 'insufferable nitwit alpha' who 'dared to chivvy' my _sweetie_ , am I right?"

Alfred looks at him with apparent confusion, completely overlooking the heavy irony in his words. "I don't know. Maybe?"

The other bursts in a fit of chuckles, puzzling even more Alfred who tries to take the rein of the conversation. "Hey, listen. You're talking about that Kirkland dude, right? Are you sure I can find him in the back?"

With a noisy whistle the alpha's expression morphs into a very winsome grin.

"Well, how forward, young boy!" leaning upward the alpha gives a short hand motion, pointing in the general direction of the back garden. "Go on, mate. Your boyfriend is there. I give you my word."

In a sudden dash, Alfred sprints past the alpha and waves to his friend Jonathan - who only sighs at his rude antics. "Thank you- Oh right what's your name? Well it doesn't matter now! Thanks anyway!"

The two alphas left behind watch as Alfred makes a large turn and almost crashes against a student who has the misfortune to stand in the way, quickly excusing himself and resuming his sloppy running without a care in the world.

"I'm sorry. He's a bit impetuous sometimes." quickly apologises Jonathan, giving a deterred look at the other.

Grinning, the alpha mumbles a quiet. "That's okay- He's gonna straight into the devil's mouth, though. I feel almost sorry for him."

* * *

 

Due to his impromptu - and mindless - action, Alfred Jones soon finds himself at loss on how exactly reaching his final goal. When he exits the opened doors of the building his eyes squint as the dull sunshine, adjusting to the opaque, menacing grey sky while aimlessly wandering the front yard, looking for the not-so familiar figure of Arthur Kirkland.

Truth to be told, Alfred has no idea why this sudden urge to meet again with the beta, but knowing the last instance they faced each other an apology sure would be welcomed. He is aware, in fact, of how boisterous and overpowering he can appear more often than not.

Granted, Kirkland may have not truly appreciated his rude touch seeing as that punch would have knocked him out at once if not for his attentive reflexes.

It is in the middle of his reverie that Alfred notices a green object bouncing a few meters away from him. At first he dismisses it as a trick of the mind, though the relentless up and down of the unrecognizable entity keeps pestering his vision until disappearing behind the adjacent wall in a fit of heavy panting.

Spurred by curiosity Alfred follows with barely contained discretion the strange thing, turning the nook and accessing into the greenest place he has ever laid his eyes upon. While overlooking the new area, thus avoiding any contact with the path before him, Alfred all but bumps into something rather stiff, he mumbles a quick sorry, but the words die on his mouth when he notices that his victim as the very resemblance of his desired item - or better person.

Arthur Kirkland stands up in a heartbeat, fully realizing the presence next to him. Nary a feigned pleasantry as the beta sends a nasty look and scoffs him off, muttering something about 'ungrateful wankers' and 'uncivilised manner' while crouching down to take a very big and luxuriant plant, carefully secured in a characteristically plain potter vase.

"What do you want?"

Not much of a good start, again.

Alfred blinks for the bluntness of the other and blurts out an unexpected "Uh- Sorry for the last time."

The conversation seems to stretch on in an awkward and unnatural silence, only perturbed by buzzing noises coming from the room facing the back blending with the peaceful rumors emitted by the surrounding nature.

The beta glances at Alfred, controlling his every movement while scrutinizing his very existence with an unreadable frown. "Do you think I'll forgive you so easily?"

The question, icy and vicious in a way that covers the light tone used, gives Alfred enough exhortation to actually revisit his action plan, thus collecting the necessary bits to acknowledge that he would have indeed expected it to be a successful fiasco.

Hence the lame and deterred. "I hoped so-"

Before Arthur can voice his rage, though Alfred spurs on. "Okay, see, I'm sorry for what happened in the hallway; I wasn't thinking straight. Your scent really got me curious s0-"

Now it is Arthur's turn to meddles in, plant still in hold and slightly reducing his biting aura. "Wait. What the heck do you mean by my scent 'got you curious'?"

"Uh- you had a strange smell. I wanted to make sure since I couldn't really perceive it since betas don't have a strong scent and all, so I acted on an impulse. That's why I'm sorry." casting his eyes down to further endorse his apologise, Alfred meekly ends his nonsensical gibber of words.

Startled a bit by the sudden confession, Arthur's cheeks dust in a thin pinkish taint and carefully inspects the other only to be greeted by a sincerely bashful alpha.

As Alfred said, betas cannot determine other scents nor their scent can be easily established by other, a true pain in the neck for someone living in a society based on a natural classification and controlled by a scent-centered interrelationship. However this does not interfere much with his lifestyle, mostly occupied by arrogant, dominant blokes and gentle, docile - nonetheless sometimes ferocious - chaps.

Sighing, Arthur yields to Alfred's apologies, not before fomenting the poor lad. "So, you find my scent strange?"

“That's not it- I-” Stuttering foolishly, the alpha prattles on, losing any composure and getting more and more flustered, thence, in the spur-of-the-moment, Alfred manages only a sincere. "No! I find it pleasant, really!"

That is undoubtedly embarrassing as both males avert immediately eyes.

Releasing a series of chuckles, Arthur holds tightly to the ceramic vase while trying to keep a moderate guise.

"You should make up your mind, lad." he says eventually.

Alfred, too, manages a weak smile, but it doesn't reach his current mood. He isn't very fond of people jeering at him, though Arthur seems more concerned on repositioning the plant which threatens to slip off his grip any minute to care about offhanded comments.

Noticing the lack of response from his interlocutor, Arthur glances up briefly, just enough to catch the unsettling expression that turns in a more puffy look of annoyance.

This time Arthur gives a warm smile. He has maybe played too much with the alpha who carries an aggravated pout in response.

"Hey, I think you're a bit oblivious at this, but I've forgiven you, Jones." comes the snickering confirmation.

It takes several minutes to be elaborated and it is almost innocent how Alfred gushes with an unbelievable cheerfulness before flaunting one of the most tender smile Arthur has ever witnessed to.

Positively impressed by Alfred's shifting moods and overall gullible attitude, the beta boy returns the smile - a bit too sappy at that - and grips tightly the weight in his limbs to better sustain it..

This doesn't elude Alfred's attentive eyes as he offers up immediately. "Can I lend you a hand?"

Arthur is about to decline the help, but he isn't given much choice as Alfred snatches the vase up and carries it comfortably on two hands.

Albeit prone to scold the alpha for his unnecessary deed, Arthur reluctantly dismisses the thought. Alfred's giddy smile relinquishes any complaining as he hops on the fertilized soil, carefully avoiding the clump of sprouts until coming on a halt in front of the hut.

"Uhm." pondering aloud, Alfred turns back and addresses Arthur with a sheepish grin. "Ehm. Where should I put it?"

Laughter pours out the older student as he watches Alfred's puzzled expression which soon follow suit, joining with his own overwhelming guffaw.

"You're quite the character, Jones!"

They eventually came to a peaceful settlement; Arthur illustrating step by step how to transplant the plant in the rich soil while Alfred carefully mimicking his motions - regardless of his slips up which almost got the poor little tree crashed. And it occurs like a sudden illumination whilst Arthur tends to the fully bloomed cyclamens, now ready to escort the chilly autumn in his slow stroll, that the prior events with the young alpha has been completely erased from his record, the resentment he felt against him has all but vanished in a matter of few hours.

There and then, he realizes. You cannot possibly stay mad at Alfred Jones.


	2. Act II - Camellia

"And what's the matter?"  
  
"The matter's I've never,  _ever_ , in my entire life swoon for a beta!"  
  
Sipping from the colorful mug and mindlessly savouring the strong aroma of the first coffee of the sunrise, Mr. Christopher F. Jones queries again with inconceivable peace. "I still cannot understand the problem here."  
  
Alfred slouches forward, arms crossing in a weird and uncomfortable shape as he rests his chin on the hard surface of the kitchen table. He has been repeatedly trying to bring up the issue of Arthur Kirkland, hoping for a positive advice from his father who, unfortunately, seems far more engaged in his early drinking routine to share his advanced wisdom with his desperate son.  
  
"Dad, I know nothing about  _betas_! That's the problem, I have no idea how they work and such!" yells Alfred in exasperation, slamming his head on the flower-pattern duvet in the process.  
  
With the utmost care, Christopher Jones lays the warm mug down, giving a patronizing look that startles the poor alpha. "Alfred, betas aren't some kinds of object: they don't 'work and such' as you so rudely put it. If this Kirkland guy really concerns you so much, just be yourself."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sorry I know, but what if I became too overbearing and annoying or if he doesn't like me treating him like an omega an-"  
  
Interrupting brusquely, Christopher's eyes soften at the increasing discomfort of the other. "Wait, boy. Calm down for a moment. You don't need to think into it too much. Betas surely are different from omegas and I know it's all new for you since you've always been into them up until now, but I'm sure you can do it."  
  
Sighing, Alfred straighten back; his face the very epitome of anguish. "I dunno. I almost screwed up our first meeting and I'm sure I'm gonna screw it again next time..."  
  
"Oh come on, Alfred! I don't recall having taught my son to give in without even trying!" urges Christopher, his smirk turning in a soft smile as he watches his son going through the turbulent period of adolescence. "Don't worry about the outcome, better giving it a chance than regretting it for your lifetime."  
  
"Dad, I never said I wanted to date him. I just want to know him better... That's all. No hidden meaning seriously."  
  
Chuckling lightly, Chrisptopher gets up and walks to the counter, placing the dirty mug in the sink. "I never mentioned anything about dating, Alfred. I'm just saying you should befriend this boy if his friendship is so important to you. Then, really, I have nothing again-"  
  
"-Dad!" shrieks Alfred, blushing furiously. "Stop it! We're done here. I'll see you later, I gotta hurry up now!"  
  
In a hasty, Alfred gathers up his belongings and bursts out the quiet house as Christopher laughs unabashedly at his son's antics, enjoying the vitality of the boy in spite of the conflicting feelings he has to endure from now on.  
  
"Well, again. It's another life's experience." mutters pensively Chrisptopher as he gets ready, too, for work.  


* * *

  
  
When Gilbert Beilschmidt enters the classroom in a restless Monday morning he doesn't expect anything much than the usual grumbled 'Good morning' from his beloved partner,  _sweetheart_  and potential doom Arthur Kirkland.  
  
Instead, what he gets after stepping into the empty room is a very lifeless being; usually fierce-looking eyes now as blank as the environment around them.  
  
Regardless, Gilbert isn't the type to get concerned for a lacking greeting. "Now what is it?"  
  
A sigh, followed by a quiet muttering. "It's unbelievable..."  
  
"What? What is it?"  
  
Pointing at the tall alpha standing in the front yard, clearly visible from the far left window of the classroom, Arthur Kirkland gives an exasperated groan which further amuses Gilbert Beilschmidt, currently looming over the sitted figure of the beta boy. "Him!"  
  
"Oh that Alfred boy, I see." Gilbert clamps a powerful and annoying smack on Arthur's shoulder while chanting a blissful "Well done, Art. I never thought you would go for a freshman though..."  
  
"Piss off, Gil- I'm not fuckin-" Arthur huffs irritably at the snickering figure of Gilbert, knowing full well he has swallowed the bait. "Bollocks! I'm talking about his overall attitude, Gil!" breathing a mouthful of air he shouts "He's fucking untouchable! He's the most amiable person I've ever met!"  
  
Gilbert spares him a bemused look, deciding at the last minute to not intervene with some joking statement seeing how worked up his friend seems to be.  
  
With a sigh, Arthur lowers his voice. "You cannot hate him for whatever reason, Gil. He's too joyful and nice to hold a grudge against him."  
  
Watching said alpha chatting idly with a group of omegas - and what a group, really - Gilbert sneaks another glance at his friend whose look has something so perturbing and unreadable that manages to upset him as well for some reason. They've been known each other for three years now and it has always been a rare event witnessing to a distressed Arthur - much less dispirited.  
  
Nothing can take Arthur's thoughts much off his dearest flowers, this is a proven fact; irrefutable even.  
  
And yet, here he is, grieving over a young student - and an alpha nonetheless! - and his all-loving personality.  
  
So much of not being smitten.  
  
"So? What's wrong?" Gilbert waits a few minutes before formulating his next sentence. "Aren't you stressing over it a bit too much, Arthur?"  
  
Looking up, the old gleaming resurfacing as Arthur gasps mute words which lack of any kind of intonation, before he opportunely clenches his lips in a tight line.  
  
Seeing no incentive form the other's part, Gilbert spurs him on, again. "Arthur, does this Jones bother you?"  
  
…  
  
"No, not at all." the voice is so weak and low that it is a wonder how Gilbert manages to catch the barely audible words in time. "He doesn't, Gil. He doesn't bother at all. Not even a tittle."  
  
The short silence that follows has the unwanted result of further throw Arthur off his comfortable zone.  
  
Granted, Gilbert has no inclination to hear about mushy stuff and shows as so. "Arthur, I don't know what's into your wicked mind, but if you like him just tell him so."  
  
Arthur sighs, his head scanning outside for the young alpha. "It's not that simple."  
  
Alfred is busy in a weird game with his classmates; wrestling each other with strong and twisting grips that leave the foe defenseless, thus showing off all their alpha pheromones like beasts in heat trying to catch the attention of their omega preys – and the performance is thoroughly appreciated seeing as half of the students are eyeing them with a lewd smirk.  
  
“It's all too sudden...”  
  
Gilbert huffs loudly, his eyes meeting Arthur's in a last attempt of persuade the beta boy to just get it out.  
  
He knows, though, that it's only a desperate move as you can't prevail over Arthur with just nice words and good deeds.  
  
Therefore he gives up as he sits on the stiff and worn chair, deciding he has wasted already enough time in a hopeless cause.  


* * *

  
  
They meet in the back garden, as usual, at the last ring of the last bell.  
  
It has become a ritual not so long after their first encounter: Alfred would skip past the clumped hallway, zigzagging among the sea of people running for the front exit; racing in a fit of excitement towards the spot in the back of the building where he would surely find Arthur devoting himself in tending the colorful flowers decorating the hut's entrance.  
  
It is a mystery how the beta boy manages to get in the garden before the lessons are even ended.  
  
People believes Arthur never leaves the lovely flowers alone if not for a compelling plight; his presence in his little Eden is constant and endless.  
  
Alfred truthfully doesn't quite believe the rumors, hence, as he greets the young beta, he truly hopes the slight and soft curl of the lips gracing Arthur's visage isn't only addressed to the perfumed scarlet petals in his hand.  
  
"You're as perky as always, Alfred." jokes Arthur as he stands up, walking to a little plant and tasting the soil with his bare hand.  
  
And thus starting the recurring pattern of their meetings.  
  
Arthur usually let Alfred talking about the daily events while watering the dry ground; sometimes he butts in with brief and trivial comments of his own, throwing in his thoughtful opinions and making sure Alfred wouldn't bother about him ignoring his persona. They would change topics restlessly in the rapt of the moment for Alfred has always been good at turning anything to his advantage, hence he is able to use any kind of trick to drag out the discussion. Arthur never comments on it; he enjoys the company of the alpha as much as the other, and it isn't so uncommon for them to have those relaxing moments where they just ravish in the comfortable chirping of the birds.  
  
Thereby the entranced expression worn by Arthur as he caresses the soft petals of the camellias, gathered together in an elegant tangle, whilst the intense Alfred's sky blue eyes follow with bewitching concentration those capable hands.  
  
Without thinking, he says quietly. "You really do love them, don't you?"  
  
Arthur starts in the middle of his enchantment and looks Alfred with big, flabbergasted eyes, but the astonishment is short-lived as the innocent statement of the alpha finally drowns in.  
  
Carefully licking his dry lips, he replies sweetly. "I do."  
  
"I do love flowers. They're my precious companions; when I want to talk freely, without the bounds of advice or prejudice, I always come here and loose myself in their silent ministrations."  
  
As he speaks the maternal affection for those living beings shows tenfolds in the small gestures and whispered sweet trifles. It is endearing, thinks Alfred, that Arthur dotes on those flowers like they are part of him and doen't just dismiss them as ornamental objects to put in a pot and let wither in the loneliness of a terrace.  
  
When Arthur turns, the sweet smile that welcomes Alfred has the reckless - and unconscious - effect of stirring up the alpha in the strangest way possible.  
  
Thus far, Alfred has been questioning the reasons and aims of this friendship for in the end Arthur hasn't ever intended to be someone who could be called 'friend' - in Alfred's general vocabulary that is, but neither an acquaintance whom you would idly chat from time to time and forgot the moment later. When they first met, Arthur has perked Alfred's curiosity with his unusually congenial scent and thus spurring Alfred to investigate on the junior beta and eventually finding himself with the unexpected realization that indeed, what he feels, has changed throughout.  
  
He knows he likes Arthur.  
  
And he knows that he might have feelings for him.  
  
And that is enough for him, now.  
  
"Arthur," the voice is as tender as the feelings Alfred holds for the beta, and he does not falter as he claims. "I like  _you_."  
  
Alfred keeps smiling as he says it, never averting his eyes from Arthur who, as soon as the words are absorbed in their true meaning, blushes with a light shade of pink - accenting his small brush of freckles - and stutters due to the increasing embarrassment taking over him.  
  
A few, long awkward moments later, Arthur manages to find the strength to hold the other's gaze, which regardless of its bright and sweet premises as also the unnerving reminder that the young alpha is patiently waiting for  _something_.  
  
Something that only Arthur can provide.  
  
Although the simple fact of being liked is quite flattering per se, the situation is far more fragile for its implication involves a deep sentiment which, for now Arthur has never been reckoned with during the past weeks spent in the lively company of Alfred.  
  
Coincidentally, it is the very innuendo of a likely partner that puts Arthur in a position he so much wishes to disentangle from.  
  
He likes Alfred, but he is not able to discern and clear out his own feelings as the very thought of him being something more has never crossed his mind until this moment.  
  
Truthfully, though, the utopian possibility of  _them_  being something  _more_  has actually taken a very much realistic form in some instances.  
  
But this is beyond the point.  
  
Because a possibility is just that, and until a solid proof can replace it Arthur has no penchant to chase a flimsy reverie.  
  
"I- I'm flattered really, Alfred..." without losing a single beat Arthur urges on. "However I-"  
  
"Arthur!"  
  
Alfred, though, is quick to cut him off before the sentence can be finished; it visibly put Arthur offs as he stares wide-eyed at him.  
  
"Arthur, I like you and the sentiment isn't going to change overnight... But I don't want to put you in a compelled position either you return it or not."  
  
Notwithstanding a small blush spreads over Alfred's cheeks, but he doesn't lose his lively and chatty attitude. "Well, sure I would be totally happy if you'd like me back, but you can take your time! Yeah, that's even the chance you don't and that would suck, but it's not like I'm gonna hold it on you 'cause you're still a great person and I would like you even though you wouldn't!"  
  
It cannot be helped as guffaws takes over Arthur's squatted form seeing Alfred getting so flustered up all by himself. The boy surely can be so naive to the point of self-inducing a quite miserable and one-sided lecture sometimes. "Alfred! That's not it!"  
  
With a sheepish smile Arthur regains his self-control and says. "I  _do_  like you, Alfred. I only... I have to sort it out myself. Therefore I'm afraid I shall turn you down for now... I'm sorry."  
  
Nonetheless Alfred takes great pride in his almost unflinching resolution which anyway fails to deceive Arthur's skilled eye.  
  
"I- uhm. I understand." He does not.  
  
But Alfred has never been one to oppose other's beliefs and if Arthur needs his time then he would gladly give him all the years ahead if convenient.  
  
He succeeds in regaining his easygoing smile forthwith in order to quiet down the guilt and pity munching Arthur.  
  
The thing he doesn't expect, however, is for the older boy to lean awkwardly over and hug him in an askew and warm embrace.  
  
"Alfred, I really like you. I really do. Just wait for a bit, okay?"  
  
And he would because if it means waiting for Arthur, then Alfred Jones is more than willing to do it.


End file.
